Snakeslayer
by BardOfTroy
Summary: Eragon wakes up in a world far different from his own and makes an unlikely friend: Matthias, the Warrior mouse of Redwall. Together, the two venture into the lair of Asmodeus Poisonteeth to retrieve the Sword of Martin Warrior.
1. The Converging of the Ways

_**Snakeslayer**_

**Author's Note: I do not own any of the stories used in this crossover. Credits to Brian Jacques and Christopher Paolini for their groundwork.**

**This is a revamp of a crossover I made on my old account.**

* * *

_As the Scourge's hordes threatened the peace of Mossflower,_

_Matthias of Redwall searched for a relic of old._

_'Twas a weapon to help him in this darkest hour:_

_The Sword of Martin—a blade of power untold._

_Alas, it lay where nobeast dared go_

_...in the lair of Asmodeus, a silent and deadly foe._

_Matthias, however, was not one to be cowed,_

_To protect the Abbey and defeat Cluny he had vowed._

_But Matthias would need help, for even the bravest of mice_

_Would falter before those eyes that could freeze blood into ice._

_For those crushing coils, those fangs of death_

_Were enough to take away any beast's breath._

_And so, from a land far away, that help would arrive,_

_a new and unfamiliar face._

_But with his help, Matthias would surely survive,_

_And escape the adder's lethal embrace._

_This unlikely companion was on a quest of his own,_

_one of considerably larger weight._

_But the heart of a Rider is of gold, not stone-_

_And no plea for help is too small, nor too great._

_Is this a story of mice or men?_

—_But who are we to say?_

_Just know that those in Redwall and Alagaësia alike_

_Oft hearken back to this fateful day._

* * *

**CHAPTER 1: The Converging of the Ways**

_THUD._

Eragon woke up immensely sore, feeling like he had just completed a furious sparring session with Arya. His vast reserves of energy were drained, and every muscle and tendon in his body ached. Judging by the way the pain was concentrated in his back and the fact that he was lying supine, Eragon surmised that he must have fallen from a great height.

_Ouch. Not the best of days._

Sitting up to recollect himself, the Rider viewed his surroundings. He seemed to be in a forest not unlike Du Weldenvarden. The trees around him bespoke an age far beyond his own, and the air itself pulsed with a deep and powerful vibrancy, as if the passing years had only bestowed layers and layers of richness to it. The sun was not yet up, and a cooling breeze was blowing through the woods like a soothing balm. Just a few feet away was a bubbling brook whose flow lent a lively sound to the stillness of the forest. It was a peaceful and calming place, and Eragon felt like he could dwell here forever, walking amongst the growth and reveling in the life around him.

_If only I didn't feel like a Shrrg collided into me full-force,_ Eragon thought to himself. _Then I would truly be able to enjoy myself here. _

_ But, first things first. Where am I?_

His last memory was of being on deck on the _Talita, _on the Edda River leaving Alagaësia for the lands of the east. The journey eastward had so far been uneventful– Eragon passed the time by reciting poetry in the ancient language and practicing his swordplay. The Edda winded through miles and miles of grassland, and Eragon detected no life beyond the occasional antelope in the distance and the lone bird that would pass high above. While it did not amount to much of an adventure, Eragon was glad that wherever they were going seemed to be farther and farther away from the rest of the world. All the better to raise the next generation of dragons. A place where no man nor beast could threaten them. A place where the dragons could rise again.

Those quiet days on the river seemed all the same and were a blur to him. They could have been months for all he knew. Then suddenly...he was _here_. He could not recall doing anything particular before he awoke in this new forest. His days ship-side were so monotonous that waking up here was a sudden jolt, as if being forcibly awakened from a dream. But the question was, where was _here_?

Eragongot up and walked to the edge of the brook. Wrinkling his whiskers, he sniffed the air to get a better scent of what was around him.

_Wait. Whiskers?_

He could not help but laugh aloud as he stared into his reflection in the water.

_"_I'm a mouse!_"_

This was certainly a startling development (beside the fact that he could speak!)—but one thing Oromis taught him was to never let his circumstances get the better of him. Eragon looked down at his right palm—and sure enough, there was the gedwëy ignasia, the shining mark that all Dragon Riders bore. A small comfort. But his gear and his sword Brisingr were gone. Not even Aren, the ring Brom had passed down to Eragon, was with him. Bereft of much of his worn and familiar equipment, Eragon suddenly felt very small and vulnerable—and with good reason. Asides from the distinct mark on his hand, Eragon could pass for any other regular field mouse. He laughed as he remembered how mice had been such a problem back on his old farm in Carvahall. Now he was just like one of the many other pests Garrow and Roran always complained about.

Eragon considered the new challenges this body posed in his quest to find a new home for the dragons. Not only would he have to worry about raising an entire brood of baby dragons, but, with a chuckle, Eragon realized he'd also have to keep himself from becoming an intrepid youngling's next afternoon snack. It was tricky enough rearing Saphira as a human—but as a mouse? Who knew what challenges now lay before him? How would he procure food for the hatchlings? How would he corral them when they needed to rest for the night? Who would teach them how to respect the property of humans, elves, dwarves, and Urgals—those dragons sneeringly called "the wingless"? These thoughts floated through the forefront of Eragon's mind, but ultimately bothered him no more than a gentle ocean tide at the shore. He would deal with those problems when the time came—for now, he had to focus on the situation at hand, which was finding out where on Alagaësia he was, and why exactly he was in rodent form.

_Speaking of Saphira, where is she? _wondered the Rider-mouse. He and his dragon were as close as any two beings could be, and it felt like half of himself was missing when she was not at his side. Her presence alone would be enough to encourage Eragon and push him onward.

_SAPHIRA! _Eragon called out with his mind, sending a clear thought that would extend for miles around him. Powerful enough to be heard by his dragon, however far away she was. She would surely reply.

No response.

Disheartened, Eragon tried several more times, but to no avail. It soon became clear that Saphira was nowhere to be found. He would have to get on without her for the time being. The thought of going it alone was no pleasure, to be sure, but Eragon had done it before and survived. If he, dragon-less, could face the Ra'zac and prevail, there were few other challenges that he could not overcome. Of course, there was no telling what this strange new land might hold—he was a mouse, for Vrael's sake! What next—more mice? Cats and rats and snakes, even?

Eragon scurried off into the woods, following the path of the brook—not quite sure where he was headed, but determined and confident nonetheless. The sun began to rise over Mossflower Woods, bringing a crimson red dawn that cast an ominous light upon the otherwise beautiful forest.

The hours passed, and morning turned into afternoon. Summer was not kind that year, as the blazing sun hung in the sky like a fiery disk. Bird and beast alike sweltered under the intense heat. In the earlier hours of the day a gentle wind had cooled the climate and spared the inhabitants of Mossflower and the surrounding territory the brunt of the sun's wrath, but by midday it had passed on, seeking the more temperate western coastlands.

* * *

Throughout that long afternoon, Matthias lay hidden near the roots of a lilac bush. Looking to his left, he could make out the figure of a Guosim shrew behind another bush about a stone's throw up the river bank. To his right, a bit farther down the river, lay another shrew behind a large boulder. Close enough to signal a warning cry and be heard, in case Asmodeus passed (of course, the call would come after sufficient time once the adder was gone). About half of a mile of the bank was covered in this fashion—silent hidden sentries separated by short distances. Log-a-Log was the furthest sentry up the river bank, while Guosim was the furthest sentry in the opposite direction. Asmodeus' passage would surely be detected. But no sign of the deadly adder yet.

Matthias could not suppress the anxiety regarding his inevitable encounter with the vile serpent. He wished all his friends were present at his side, from Constance, to Cornflower, to poor Methuselah...but Cluny the Scourge threatened Redwall at this very moment, and every day the Abbey's fate hung in the balance. Nobeast could be spared from the defense of its walls, and it was on Matthias' shoulders alone to retrieve the sword of Martin. The burden of the quest was heavy, and Matthias sometimes wished he had not volunteered to go, but the love of Redwall was too great, his hatred of Cluny too intense. And while his friends at Redwall were far away, Matthias took comfort in his unlikely companions: Log-a-Log and Guosim, and the rest of the guerilla shrews. Something deep within his heart told him they would not be the last new friends he would make on this journey...

Forced to remain still lest he compromise his presence, Matthias could hardly ward off the myriad of inquisitive flies and insects that buzzed about in the lazy summer heat and walked across him undisturbed. Despite his itchiness and urge to brush them off, he fought to stay still and stay on the alert for Asmodeus. Sometimes he focused too hard and his imagination fooled him, turning a vagrant breeze or the river current into a snake's hiss.

_Come on, old Poisonteeth, where are you?_

Surely the snake, or anybeast for that matter, must pass this way soon!

* * *

Eragon scurried for the better part of the day. Thankfully, the enhanced strength and endurance bestowed upon him by the Blood-Oath Celebration remained, and once more he marveled at the magic of the dragons. What power the spell they wrought had, to endure after transfigurations such as his! Although he doubted his abilities were even close to those of his old body, Eragon was certain that no mouse or similarly-sized creature alive could match him in a contest of physical prowess. No mouse surely could have traveled the distance he did that day within the same time.

His gramarye, on the other hand, was a different story. It seemed nearly non-existent in this world. Although Eragon could speak the ancient language well enough as a mouse (he was still struggling to comprehend the fact that he could speak at all), the spells he tried to cast were feeble and a far cry from what he could do at the height of his power. _Reisa _did no more than slightly vibrate a fallen leaf. _Brisingr_ managed to make his paw feel slightly warmer—and he suspected that feeling was more due to the afternoon heat. Both of these attempts at magic left him dizzy and gasping. While magic seemed present to a degree—his increased physical capabilities were testament to that—Eragon surmised that his mouse body simply lacked the raw life energy to manipulate the world with the ancient language. Maybe gramarye was just not possible on this scale. Remembering his elementary lessons in magic with Brom, Eragon decided not to test his magical limits in this new world. He would however store that issue for later discussion with the dragons of the Eldunarí...if and when they would ever be reunited.

He had followed the brook until it fed into a large river. Deciding to stay along the river—for there was really no other path to follow—the Rider eventually left the forest behind and traveled through an open field. Just a few feet into the field, a huge snowy owl had swooped out of nowhere and swiped at him with its talons. Narrowly avoiding its claws, Eragon broke away at full speed, his little mouse heart beating frantically. Thanks to his above average speed, Eragon quickly out-distanced the predator. He thought he could hear the owl cursing in frustration behind him, but did not stop to listen. Wishing to put as much distance between the owl and himself as possible, Eragon continued to follow the river, hoping for a friendlier encounter.

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity, the sun began its descent and left a reddening sky, relieving the world below of its heat. Matthias glanced up at sinking sun and felt his own heart begin to sink, worrying that their watch would soon be for naught.

As the sun approached the horizon, and darkness enveloped the sky, a shrew came to Matthias' side and motioned urgently down the river bank, in the direction Guosim had stationed herself.

"Come quickly. We've run into trouble."

Something must have gone awry! Without asking a single question, Matthias threw caution to the winds and immediately sprinted downstream. Other shrews left their hiding spots to join him.

A group of seven shrews were piled up near the river bank, embroiled in a struggle with some unknown creature. Dust rose in a cloud as punches were exchanged and kicks were delivered. He could hear sharp squeals of pain as he realized teeth were not ruled out from this brawl either. Matthias took a step forward when he heard a sickening crunch. One of the shrews went flying from the scuffle, screaming as he landed with a splash in a nearby inlet. Matthias motioned for one of the shrews to help the poor beast and stepped closer to join the fray but was held back by Guosim and Log-a-Log. He struggled in vain as they pleaded with him to keep his distance.

"Don't come near it, Matthias! It's too strong!"

"Stay back! Didn't you see what it did to poor Mingo?"

Two more shrews went flying past Matthias and crashed into a nearby boulder with a resounding thump. Two more casualties in the furious fight. Moments later, another sickening crunch and one more shrew barreled away—Matthias knew another punishing blow had been thrown. Matthias tried to pull himself free from his friends but to no avail. More shrews run forward to aid their fellow guerillas but stopped in their tracks at what they saw.

The creature was standing aloft and had lifted the three remaining shrews above its head, two in one paw and one in the other! The shrews cried out for mercy as they struggled to free themselves from its iron grip. The creature threw them down at Matthias' feet.

"Is there anyone else who'd like to have a go?" it cried. Although the rest of the Guosim had gathered at the scene of the fight, it seemed to speak directly to Matthias.

What strength! Mouth agape, Matthias squinted in the dim evening light and tried to make it out. It was, to his surprise, a young, male mouse! Just about his height and age—but with a look in his eyes far beyond his years. A look of many battles endured, friends lost, and an inner burden to rival his own. A being not to be trifled with.

It was also one of the most physically impressive mice he had ever seen. Not big and bulky like badgers were, but clearly developed—more like a hare in its build, with a trim upper body and thick, powerful lower legs. Looking closer, Matthias was not surprised that it had bested seven Guosim shrews, and had lifted three with its bare hands.

Matthias thought very quickly about what to do. There was no telling whether this creature was a friend or foe. But he already had Asmodeus to face, and he did not want another foe on his paws, especially one this dangerous.

_Time to make a new friend, then, _he laughed to himself bitterly. This would not be easy.

Matthias' voice was calm and conciliatory but betrayed his nervousness. "Friend, I do not know who you are, or where you come from, but please leave us at peace. We mean you no harm and ask to be left alone."

"Then can you tell me why seven of your friends here attacked me without warning!?" the strange mouse demanded.

Matthias chose his words carefully, then spoke as best as he knew how. "They must have mistook you for something else. We were on the lookout for an enemy...a deadly one. We've been lying in wait all day. I myself nearly went mad from the heat and my own fear. To finally come across something, as nervous as they were, and as jealously protective of their homeland as these shrews are, they could not help but spring upon you as they did. But we mean you no harm. Our fight is against another."

Silence. The stranger looked at Matthias with a searching gaze, more curious than hostile. Matthias made a final plea.

"If there is anything I can do to nurse the wounds you have suffered, please say so. I belong to a healing and helping order of mice, and I will do all in my power to help."

Finally, the stranger spoke.

"And who might you be, friend?"

"Matthias, Warrior of Redwall." Matthias waited before tentatively asking a final question.

"And you, sir?"

The strange mouse's eyes flashed for a brief moment before he replied.

"Eragon."

He paused for a moment, appearing to weigh his words before speaking.

"A warrior, just like you. And don't worry about my injuries—I've had worse."


	2. Fireside Chats

**This has taken a (relatively) long while, but I've tried to make the most of the time I've budgeted to sit down and write! Hope you like it. I'll try to be more prompt and regular with my updates.**

* * *

Log-a-Log called off the watch for Asmodeus, and the Guosim set up camp for the night. A fire was kindled near the river bank, while two sentries were stationed at the edge of the camp, ready to alert the rest of the group at the first sign of trouble. Sentries switched at hourly intervals to provide rest through the long weary night. Although the serpent had not yet been sighted, no risks were to be taken. This was no ordinary vermin they were dealing with.

Stories floated about how Asmodeus would slither into farms and villages during the night and snatch the unwitting creature who happened to be wandering about. It was even told that he could see perfectly during the blackest of nights, as if it were a bright summer day! Day and night alike were dangerous hours to be about in the forest, the Guosim shrews had concluded, and precautions were ever necessary.

None of the Guosim could sleep that night-not after a full day with their nerves on edge, on the lookout for one of the deadliest creatures in Mossflower Wood. Around the campfire, peaceful snores were instead replaced by nervous chatter.

"Where do you think Ice-Eyes could be? There's no telling where he might show up!"

"Have you heard about how he's eaten up some from the horde of Cluny the Scourge himself?"

"Cluny is over a league away from us! There's no way the snake could travel that fast!"

"Cheer up, we've got a strong new friend with us! I'll take him over Asmodeus any day!"

"Rat's tails! He might have laid out a few of our folks, but I heard even the old owl is afraid to cross Asmodeus. This fellow would be nothing more than an afternoon snack."

"We've been waiting all day! What if he's left these lands to prey on poor creatures elsewhere…"

Log-a-Log and Guosim, the first sentries of the night patrol, sighed to themselves as they overheard the spooked small talk. It would do no good to give Asmodeus any more power by gossiping about him like a group of skittish schoolmice. An uncontrollable imagination could often be a far worse enemy than a foe itself, if one did not keep tight control over his or her thoughts.

"Do you hear that talk, Log-a-Log? The camp is about to go mad with hysteria. I'm surprised they don't go running off in a thousand different directions," Guosim snorted.

"Peace, Guosim. They've more sense than that," replied the shrew chieftain. "Sometimes the best way to deal with fear is to talk about it."

Guosim ignored him as she turned her gaze back to the camp. "I, however, am curious about those two. They don't seem to have a care in the world." She pointed to the two mice of their company, seated at the edge of the river bank.

Log-a-Log observed their calm, measured speech, and the casual way they sat, never once turning to the darkness beyond the campfire or the stray sounds of the night. Their conversation could be called slightly jovial, even, if you noticed the slight glints in their eyes and the occasional laugh.

"I'm suspicious about the one who calls himself _Eragon._ No creature should have strength like that, badgers and wildcats maybe, but mice? Log-a-Log, who's to say he doesn't turn on us while our backs are to him and make mincemeat of us all?" she demanded.

He did not answer.

"Don't think he hasn't forgotten how seven of our shrews waylaid him-even if he did give them a good walloping!"

"Might we remind ourselves, my friend, that you were nearly as suspicious of our other mouse when we first chanced upon him?"

"That is different. He is from the Abbey, and we know to trust such folk. But who is this fellow, who calls himself a 'warrior' and nothing more! We've no cause to ally with him. Think about the danger he poses to us!"

Guosim knew the burden on his heart-as chief of the Guerilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower, it was the Log-a-Log's primary responsibility to maintain shrew hegemony in the woods and to address any challenges to their dominance. For ages, the Union had fended off a host of vermin that passed through. From rogue Juska tribes, to the slave traders from Malkariss, to corsairs inroading from the coasts, those who sought to claim Mossflower for themselves had tried-and failed-to overthrow the formidable force of shrews inhabiting it. But with the arrival of Cluny, the discovery of Asmodeus, and the appearance of this imposing new mouse, years of Guosim authority seemed to be shaken in one blow. She sensed his turmoil and pounced.

"We've already our hands full, I don't want one more threat to our Union!

"I can neither confirm nor deny your suspicions. I don't know anymore than you do. But what I do know is Matthias trusts him. And that should be good enough for us all."

"Humph!"

* * *

They talked long throughout the night, and the fantastic stories which Eragon told were more than enough to keep Matthias awake despite his fatigue. Many places he described were wholly unfamiliar to the young mouse (he guessed that Eragon must have been from a land far and unknown), but he listened intently.

An evil tyrant. The murder of his family. Journeys to ancient forests and mountains. Terrible battles. A love passionately felt but painfully unrequited. These tales rivaled even the ones Abbot Mortimer used to tell of Martin the Warrior.

And through it all, his dear friend Saphira.

"What is she like?" Matthias asked.

"Well...for one thing...she's strong. One of the strongest beings I've ever knew, both in body and heart. Stronger than me, even." Eragon laughed as he saw the amazement in Matthias' eyes. He continued.

"She has these piercing blue eyes that can look into your very soul and know what you are feeling, no matter what you say to the contrary."

"And…honest, to a fault. Saphira will say what's on her mind, regardless of what you or the other person might think. I can always trust her to tell the truth...or at least her best perception of it."

"I honestly don't know how I could have made it this far without her. She's such a part of me that to this second I feel like I'm missing half of myself."

A question arose in Matthias' mind. "Do you-"

Eragon anticipated his query. "Love her? Hmm...in a way. But different...different from how I loved Arya, or how you love Cornflower."

Matthias blushed at the mention of her name.

"No need to be ashamed. From what you say, she's a young maiden worthy of your affections. And in all honesty, your chances with her are probably a lot higher than mine were with Arya."

A pang of sadness came through Eragon's heart as he thought of that love that could never be. Matthias saw the shadow pass in his face and quickly returned to the main topic.

"So, you and Saphira are like a brother and sister then? Close."

"Yes, that's it." As close as Rider and dragon could be.

"I wish she was with us right now. She'd give old Poisonteeth a run for his money! Although I know he'd already have his hands full with you, I'm sure."

Eragon agreed wholeheartedly, at least about Saphira. Asmodeus was certainly a formidable opponent, but he knew that few creatures in this world or his own could match her in battle. He did wonder, however, what form Saphira would take if she was ever transported to this world like he was. Some kind of bird of prey? Maybe a lizard, or a snake like the one Matthias was looking for? Such musings were for another time...

"Saphira, yes. I wish she was here too. As for my own prospects against 'old Poisonteeth'..I don't know. Serpents are no creatures to be trifled with, even in my land. I'm sorry to tell you that a good many of the stories your your friends are murmuring on about have some truth to them."

"No! You can't be serious!"

"They can hunt in the dark as well as in the light; better even, because prey usually won't be able to see beyond their own whiskers. And they are fast...blindingly so. If they are poisonous, their venom acts like cold ice that freezes you in your tracks. I'm fast and strong, yes, but if Asmodeus lands a fang on me, a fat lot of good I'd be to you and your friends. And judging from the tracks we've seen, I fear my strongest blow would be no more than a pinprick to him."

Matthias groaned, disheartened by Eragon's stark appraisal of his chances. But in his words, Matthias did not feel the despair of surrender. Alongside Eragon's realism was humility-the self-honesty of a warrior who knew his limits and acknowledged them, and Matthias respected him all the more for it.

"Then I'm afraid the Guosim's worries are well-founded," Matthias lamented.

They were quiet for a while. Matthias spoke again.

"Captain Snow and King Bull Sparra are afraid to fight Asmodeus. These shrews-some of the bravest beasts I've ever known-shiver at the thought of him! And even you doubt your chances! How did I ever hope to face him? How can I ever retrieve the Sword? How can I ever save Redwall?"

Eragon put a paw on his shoulder. "The fact that you've made it this far is a testament to your courage. You marched into a sparrow's nest without fear. You dove into the gaping mouth of a cat and kept your wits about you. You stared down Captain Snow and didn't flinch. You defied Cluny's army and refused to surrender. If anyone should be afraid, it's old Poisonteeth himself. No hero is without doubts, Matthias, and my own are with me to this day. You may have been raised in Redwall Abbey, but yours is the spirit of a warrior-I saw it in your eyes when you ran to the aid of your friends. This land will be indebted to you one day."

Eragon's last words reminded Matthias of something Cornflower had said to him. But before he could reply, Eragon stood abruptly.

"But enough talk! We've a long day tomorrow and I think we both need some sleep."

* * *

As Matthias lay by the campfire, Cornflower's words came back to him. Already it felt so long ago the day she said those to him at the Abbey.

_You are brave, Matthias. Already you have done great things for one so young. I am only a simple country-bred fieldmouse, but even I can see the courage and leadership in you. A burning brand shows the way, and each day your flame grows brighter. There is none like you, Matthias. You have the sign of greatness upon you. One day Redwall and all the land will be indebted to you. Matthias, you are a true Warrior._

Matthias could not completely shake the feeling of doubt from himself, but Cornflower's encouragement warmed his heart. Eragon believed in him too, and that was a great comfort indeed.


	3. Hunter and Hunted

**Here's the next chapter! Will try to stay consistent with updates.**

Intruders were afoot in his domain.

How stealthily they tried to conceal their presence, to no avail. He detected their scent from leagues away. The huge adder slithered through the brush swiftly and silently, following the trail of the insolent creatures who plodded noisily about. Tasting the air with his forked tongue, he counted not one or two, but a score of woodlanders just a few miles away!

Prey had been slim the past few months. Now and then the serpent chanced upon a stray vermin from the horde, but they seemed to have become aware of his presence. Alerted of the giant snake hunting down their unwitting brethren, the vermin were now loathe to venture beyond the confines of their encampment. Unable to pick off any more, he retreated from area surrounding the red stone building and returned to hunting grounds closer to his lair.

Just in time, it seemed. The blazing summer heat on the day he returned forced him underground, cold-blooded reptile he was. A light breeze, however, picked up at dusk as the sun ended its sojourn across the sky and gave way to the moon. It was then that he emerged from his lair, ready to begin his hunt anew. Not long after, the discovery of new prey!

It would do no good to confront them all at once. There was little doubt he could dispose of them in short time, but a large pile of uneaten bodies would go soon bad, and meat was always better fresh...better to pick them off individually. A longer, more satisfying meal, relished by the growing fear of the pitiful creatures as they saw their companions disappearing one by one!

"Asmodeus, Asmodeusssssssssss." A silky whisper, deceptively soft for the snake's enormous size, foreshadowed the killing to come.

* * *

"He must have been quite a fighter, for you to value his weapon so highly," Eragon remarked.

The group resumed its search in the early hours of the morning, before the sun had even risen. As they trekked across the river, making their way towards the quarry where Asmodeus would surely be, Matthias told Eragon all he knew of the legends of Martin the Warrior, one of Redwall's founding order and its greatest champion.

"They say he came to Mossflower ages ago, from a land far to the west. He arrived during a cruel winter, and the forest was then under the dominion of the wildcat, Lord Verdauga Greeneyes. Greeneyes was a harsh leader, exacting heavy tributes from Mossflower's inhabitants in exchange for their protection. Many farmers struggled to keep up a sufficient harvest to feed both his troops and their own families. Greeneyes' troops arrested Martin not long after he entered the area."

Eragon nodded. This past ruler reminded him all too well of Galbatorix. Matthias saw knowing the look in his eyes and continued.

"But his daughter, Tsarmina, was even worse. Imagine a Verdauga without the restraints of fairness, reason, or decency. That was Tsarmina. She broke Martin's sword, his one heirloom from his father, and had him thrown into the dungeons of their castle."

"But if his sword was broken, what use is it now?"

"We'll get there." Matthias replied. He smiled as he saw in Eragon his own inquisitiveness and questioning spirit.

"Martin got out soon enough-it was not the first time he was imprisoned at the hands of a tyrant. With the help of some woodlanders, Martin escaped Mossflower to seek help and gather a force strong enough to liberate Mossflower. Verdauga passed away during that time from unknown causes, and Tsarmina had the true heir, her brother Gingivere, framed for her father's death and imprisoned."

"Did Gingivere just allow himself to be usurped like that? I think a son of one like Verdauga Greeneyes would have some more backbone!"

"Ha. Tsarmina was to Gingivere as night is to day. Whereas she was cruel and cunning, he was compassionate and naive. His mockers called him a dormouse in a wildcat's body. I saw he was a creature with a heart and soul. Anyways, it was a small matter for Tsarmina to assume the throne for herself. Under her iron first, Mossflower would have been doomed."

_Intrigue and ambition_, Eragon thought. _Surer to tear apart a kingdom than any drought, famine, or war._

"Martin and his companions journeyed to the fire mountain of Salamandastron, where its ruler re-forged his sword with precious metal from the heavens. After many battles and adventures, Martin returned to Mossflower on a great ship with his own army and overthrew the vermin forces under Tsarmina. In a vicious fight, Martin defeated the wildcat, although suffering grievous wounds himself. But the forest was now free!"

"The old castle of Kotir was torn down, and Redwall Abbey was built in its place. The coming of Martin signaled a new era in Mossflower, no longer marked by oppression and tyranny but healing and goodwill. He was our first Warrior, and his Sword has been passed down to every Warrior since. For seasons, it symbolized hope and courage, especially in times where those were scant."

Eragon needed no further clarifications regarding the Sword's recent history-Matthias had told him already of how it had been stolen once by the Sparra, then once more by the great serpent. He was curious regarding another matter.

"Martin sought help outside of Mossflower...but why was he alone in the first place, when he first came? Didn't he have any companions?"

Matthias chuckled. "Martin himself was loathe to tell his history. Much of what we know of him was told by others, or in brief journals he left behind. I hear he was a former slave on the coastlands. Others say he was part of a traveling group of performers. Still some insist that he was a sailor who fought corsairs and great sea monsters. I have heard tell that he simply sprang to life from the earth, fully formed-as some of the shrews would have me believe of yourself!"

Shrugging, Eragon replied, "At any rate, I am sure he was a mouse of great valor, whose exploits, whatever they may have been, were marked were bravery and adventure. You do well to aspire to be like him. The Abbey will find great encouragement when you return with his sword."

Log-a-Log ran up to Matthias and tapped him on the shoulder. "Friends, I hope your friendly chatter is soon at a close. We've arrived at the quarry."

* * *

How perfect. Two of the shrews had lagged just far enough behind the rest of the group. Their small bodies would require a minimal amount of venom, all the more delicious for him.

Asmodeus struck with the speed of a lightning bolt! Mingo felt a sharp prick on the side of his neck and shuddered, falling to the ground.

"It's here! Asmodeus is here!" Guosim yelled.

The second shrew's alarm was a minor inconvenience. The rest of the group would be here soon. Less time to act. His was the way of patience and deliberation, and he preferred not to hunt with such haste.

Guosim drew her rapier when the adder turned to face her.

"Sssssstop. No need to fight. Hold sssstilll." he hissed, fixing his gaze on her. Guosim tried to turn away but was held in place by those narrow, black eyes. They were like deep bottomless pools with no end. She felt cold inside, and suddenly very lethargic. Why move at all? It had been a long night. Better to stay still and stare into the black eternity beneath those slits...

Asmodeus prepared to strike...but could already smell the others approaching, quickly. More than he cared to deal with. Why expend more effort to kill when a meal already lay before him? Taking Mingo into his jaws, Asmodeus slithered off among the rocks and made for his underground lair. He would enjoy his morning breakfast.

* * *

Eragon was the first to arrive. A dry, musty, deathlike odor was in the air. Guosim was seated on the ground, her eyes widened in fear, and trembling uncontrollably. Her companion, Mingo, was gone. Scanning the immediate area, Eragon saw a giant set of tracks leading deeper into the quarry that could only belong to one creature.

Briefly considering pursuit, he remembered his ill-fated battle with Durza, a foe whose powers he vastly underestimated. Only with Aryas and Saphira's timely intervention had he defeated him, and barely. Now, neither of them were here with him; even with his enhanced strength and speed, Eragon was hesitant to face a foe like Asmodeus alone. Waiting for Matthias and the shrews to catch up, he turned his attention to Guosim. She was in a state of clear shock.

"What happened? Where's Mingo?" Eragon asked.

She could only sputter incoherently.

"Sn-sn-snake! Eyessss! M-m-mingo! P-p-pooor Mingo!" Guosim flung herself down sobbing into the grass.

Eragon put both paws on her shoulders and stared her straight in the eye, just as Matthias burst onto the scene, followed by Log-a-Log and the rest of the shrews.

"Eka aí fricai un Shur'tugal. Sé mor'ranr ono finna." I am a Rider and a friend. May you find peace.

Eragon did not know whether these words would calm her down (the ancient language seemed nearly powerless in this world) but spoke them sincerely and honestly.

One of the shrews cried out in alarm. "Someone stop him! He's magickin' her! I knew he couldn't be trusted!" Two shrews came up to stop Eragon but were held back by Matthias. Log-a-Log whacked the accuser upside the head, exclaiming, "He's only trying to help, you fool!"

Guosim's eyes came into focus, and her shivering stopped somewhat. Taking several deep breaths, she finally mustered her speech.

"As-asmo-mo-deus...came out of nowhere...he bit him...then he t-turned t-to me and..and..an-an-an-and gave me the magic eyes! I couldn't do anything...I c-c-couldn't move!"

"Did he bite you too?" Eragon asked sharply.

"N-no..." she replied. "But he might just as well h-have. I stood th-there like a dumb statue while Ice-Eyes dragged him aw-w-awa-way!"

Eragon breathed a sigh of relief, although his heart ached for Mingo. He never got to apologize for drubbing him near the river, yet Mingo trusted him alongside Matthias and the rest. It was fortunate Guosim had managed to escape with her life. Without his magic, there was little he could do to save Guosim if she had been poisoned. However...it was odd that she, a battle-hardened shrew, had been stopped dead in her tracks by Asmodeus' eyes alone. Claims of his icy stare sounded dubious to him and were one of the stories he never believed. The sight of such a deadly predator should have been enough to send anybeast scurrying off. Was it magic? Was it simply sheer terror that locked his victims into place? His doubts were now called into question.

Matthias hung his head in shame. It was he who asked the Guosim shrews to accompany him, and he felt responsible for Mingo. If any more of his friends died on this quest, Matthias did not know if he would be able to bear the burden of guilt.

* * *

For what seemed like an eternity, all was quiet save for the sound of the nearby river flowing. Guosim had mostly quieted down, occasionally sniffling. Everyone present silently paid homage to the memory of Mingo, the first to die on their quest. A terrible feeling permeated their collective consciousness that he would not be the last.

**I was a little hesitant to introduce a POV from Asmodeus at first, primarily because I felt like it would take away from his mystique and make him less scary and intimidating. However, after reading through Redwall I noticed that Jacques himself _did _write several passages from Asmodeus' perspective, so this first section is an attempt to emulate that. Hope it worked.**

**Also, I found myself favoring Eragon a little too much in the first chapter (if you read through his brawl with the shrews you may notice he's rather OP) so I tried to "tone him down" a little and make him more of Matthias' peer. I was charmed by the idea of his enhanced speed and strength but am starting to wonder how much it will actually add to the plot, especially since I can't let him abuse it.**


	4. The Descent

**I originally planned for Eragon to meet Matthias earlier in his travels, but realized that it would provide too many tempting opportunities to make him OP. So instead, "the powers that be" sent Eragon to the Redwall Universe for a specific purpose. You may already know :)**

**Your reviews are appreciated! I am relatively new to FanFiction, so I always like feedback which I can use to further refine my style. Comments about how you liked the story, any plot holes, story inaccuracies, awkward phrases, etc.**

* * *

Clearing his throat, Matthias stood before the group on a rocky outcropping. All eyes were on him. The sun had barely begun to rise, but its first rays on the horizon were enough to cast Matthias in the light, enveloping him in a nearly divine aura. Eragon noted his angelic appearance and laughed at the absurdity of it. Matthias was never one for flair and grandeur, preferring modesty and meekness. Unknowingly, the young mouse had captured the attention of all present.

"My friends," Matthias began, taking time to look each individual in the eye as he spoke. "I grieve the loss of our companion Mingo as much as you do. None of us expected Asmodeus to strike so early. Cunning beast that he was, his attack took us all by surprise. To this moment, I wish I had been the one taken instead of Mingo. It was I who asked you to join me on this quest, and I accept full responsibility for this."

As Matthias' eyes passed over Eragon, the latter could not help but to avert his gaze. The guilt of never having reconciled with the shrew after the riverside brawl still pained him. As a Rider, he felt it his duty to protect others, no matter where he was. Matthias did not know it, but in his heart, Eragon felt equally responsible for the tragedy. _Whatever afterlife poor Mingo's soul is in right now, I hope he's forgiven me. _

"Today I give you a choice, before more lives are lost. Those who would rather return home are free to do so. I can no longer ask you to endanger your lives on my behalf. This is my quest, and my burden, alone."

No one spoke for the longest time. Eragon scanned the faces in the crowd, observing the mixed reactions that took place. Some looked searchingly at Matthias, as if guessing at some hidden motive or surprised by his forthrightness. Guosim and several others raised their eyebrows, not expecting this sudden change of plans. The Guosim, after all, had agreed to accompany Matthias. Mingo notwithstanding, they were aware of the risks involved in such a venture. A shrew's word was his honor and to take it back, even with the consent of the other party, was downright taboo. Many of the tradition-minded older veterans felt this way, but Eragon felt differing sentiments from amongst the younger shrews. A boyish-looking individual appeared to struggle with himself internally. Reading his quivering lip and unwillingness to look at Matthias, Eragon sensed that the urge to go home pulse strongly in his heart. Unweathered by battle and hardships, this one was.

_Much like me before the battle of Farthen Dur._

Finally, some whispers ran through the crowd. From the chatter arose a rather interesting conversation that seemed to be taking place near the back. Perking his ears, Eragon strained to listen to the two participants.

"Well, what do you make of this?"

"Dunno, Karven, but I'm sorely tempted to take him up on it!"

"Blast you, we gave him our word!"

"He's revoked it! 'Sides, do you want to go on risking your skin in this mad quest? Look what happened to poor Mingo! Next, it could be you! Or little Karven! Or Tomriel! Even old Fangur!"

"What's gotten into you, Rotham? When we left Mossflower you were the one dragging me on this adventure!"

"Times have changed. Look, our best fighters are all here. If we perish against the snake, there'll be none left to lead the Guosim! Have you heard news of the hordes now occupying Mossflower? Who will stand against them?"

"The Abbey folk are resisting them to this moment!"

"Heh, they won't last long. Without the Guosim, Mossflower is doomed!"

Sighing, Eragon turned his ears back to the front. _Fear_, he thought. _This place is ripe with it._ Before the hubbub grew too disruptive, Log-a-Log raised a hand to silence it. Walking to the outcropping beside Matthias, he too addressed the group.

"Your gesture is kind, Matthias-and I believe I speak for more than myself when I say that the thought of returning home is sorely tempting." Many shrews nodded in agreement. Log-a-Log continued.

"For a while now, I have thought about the fate of my people, of shrew hegemony in Mossflower. From the day you chanced upon Guosim on your lonely sojourn, I knew that our destiny, somehow, would be tied with yours. True, we are proud of our independence, and for years we have claimed sole authority over the forest. But recent events have called that claim into question. I now realize that the Guosim cannot stand alone. Your home, Redwall Abbey, wields as much influence as our Union-and for the longest time I was blind to that. Well, no more."

"This quest began as a mission to rid the world of Asmodeus, as we saw him a threat to the Union's hegemony. You were merely an asset to us. Now, it is more than that." Eragon raised his brow as he realized where Log-a-Log was going.

"Long ago my ancestor, Log-a-Log Big Club, aided your predecessor, Martin the Warrior, in overthrowing the tyrant Tsarmina. Today, I do the same. We pledge our friendship to you and to Redwall Abbey. We will help you kill the serpent, and we will come back with you to defeat the Scourge as well!" Visibly touched, Matthias was at a loss for words. He had not expected such loyalty from friends so recently made.

"Don't you forget, a shrew's as good as his word. We made a promise before we left, and we're not about to renege on you!" spoke up Guosim."

"Aye!" cried Fangur, the hardened veteran of whom Rotham spoke.

Several more shouts of agreement followed. Not unanimous, Eragon observed, but a considerable majority. Enough to keep the venture afloat. The shrews had an almost political way of doing things, albeit much simpler than the courts of Surda or Uru'Baen. There, getting the simplest thing done (ordering new armor sets for a garrison, deploying a patrol force, or refurbishing a building, for instance) could take hours of debate, involving more subtlety, maneuvering, and back-slapping than he cared for. It was one of the reasons he refused the head position of Du Vrangr Gata and shied away from Alagaesian government altogether. True, he had assumed control of the Varden for a time, and took part in yearly town hall meetings in Carvahall, but those were under conditions of necessity. Organized government was a place he would never feel at home. The burden of leadership was best left to others.

Taking his place alongside Matthias, Eragon decided it was time to resume the mission. "I'm always glad to see arms crossed in camaraderie. Friendship is one of the few things I've seen stand the test of time. But our time today is of the essence. We've got to make haste. Best to strike while the sun is still out, while old Poisonteeth is most likely asleep or at rest. Not to mention, we've still got to find his doorstep!"

* * *

They split into groups of four and fanned across the quarry. Log-a-Log and Matthias joined Karven and Fangur. It was decided that Eragon was the equivalent of three warriors, so he was paired off with Guosim only; a match she didn't take kindly to, as she made clear at the outset of their search.

"Planned this all along, didn't you? Cut me off from the rest of the group and leave me for Ice-Eyes, while you make your escape to whatever strange land from whence you hail." Getting her confidence would be difficult, Eragon thought. In Guosim ran all her kind's clannishness and distrust of outsiders, multiplied tenfold. The dwarves themselves would have thought her paranoid.

"You trust Matthias."

"We know where he's from. And he's proven his worth. You've done nothing but wallop seven of our shrews." She seemed to have forgotten his timely intervention just earlier that day.

"What more can I do to earn your trust? I've spoken nothing but the truth," he replied helplessly.

"What is truth?" she spat. He was without an answer. Something told him an abstract dissertation worthy of Oromis would be useless to her practical, obtuse nature. Nor would do any good to explain Alagaesia, the dragons, or his personal history. Matthias was open to those kinds of stories, but telling Guosim would only serve to alienate her even further and increase her xenophobia. What good would talk of magic, unknown creatures, and faraway lands be with a shrew who had loathed anything beyond her Union's own borders?

"All I can really say is that I was on a quest of my own before I arrived here. I woke up near the forest you call Mossflower and found my way along the river. Not too long after, I met your company."

She narrowed her eyes. "Where did you start?"

He described the glade as best as he could, detailing the creek, trees and bushes in the area with precision and vividness. Guosim's eyes widened in surprise.

"You started there?! That glade isn't too far off from one of our outposts near the edge of Mossflower! But, but...that's a two day's journey from here! We paddled along the river to get to where we are now!"

"Uhhhh…." He probably could have stretched the truth a little more, thinking back on it. Tact was never his strong suit.

"Did you have a horse? Did you fly on the back of a raven or eagle?"

"I…I..." Well, honesty was the best policy."I ran."

"By the heavens...who are you?" Eragon chose his words with more care this time.

"A friend...a helper on your quest. I belong to an order known as the Riders, of whom I am one of the last. I was tasked to complete a mission when...I was somehow transported to this place. When I first came to, I wondered where I was. I wondered where all my friends were and why I was here. But after everything that's happened so far...I believe I'm here to help you."

Guosim listened intently, taking everything in. No doubt she searched for a hidden meaning in his words, the veiled threat she certainly expected from him. Finally, she laughed bitterly.

"Time will tell, Eragon. Time will tell. For now, I'm under Log-a-Log's authority not to harm you. But if you so much as lift a whisker towards one of us, I'll make sure your so called order loses one more member!"

Eragon and Guosim were quiet for a long time as they searched the quarry. The duo scoured the lower slopes, poking and probing. They inspected underneath deformed bushes, turned over chunks of rock, crawled beneath huge slabs, always watching closely for the telltale single winding track of the adder. The silence was deafening. There was neither birdsong nor the hum of insects inside the sunken arena. Asmodeus' presence seemed to cast a deathly pallor on the entire place. Having crisscrossed the floor, Eragon and Guosim progressed to the middle terraces, but the results were equally disappointing. All morning they had searched the quarry without any success.

At midday Log-a-Log called a halt. The group convened on a flat table-shaped rock halfway up and shared a meager lunch followed by a canteen of water. It was not a cheerful meal due to the morning's fruitless search. They each sat with their own thoughts. Finally Guosim stood up, dusting her fur off. She clapped her paws together in a brisk manner, urging her companions to resume the task.

"We haven't got all day!" Motioning to Eragon, who had barely started on his second loaf of bread, she made her way to the southwestern section of the quarry.

"Better hurry, Eragon." Matthias chuckled, watching Guosim walking off into the distance. Her figure grew less visible by the second. "Your partner may find Asmodeus before you do!"

"That's what I'm worried about!" Hurriedly packing his half-finished meal, Eragon bounded quickly toward his eager companion. Thanks to his powerful lower body, he caught up to Guosim in a few leaps. Landing with a resounding boom next to her, he heard a slight rumble as he turned to face his partner.

"Let's not charge off recklessly like that again, shall we? Who knows what might be out-"

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

The ground which they were standing upon caved in, causing them to fall to the ground beneath. Matthias and the others heard their screams from a distance and came barreling to the scene. A perfectly circular hole, about six feet in diameter, existed where Eragon and Guosim once stood. Darkness extended far below and neither of the two could be seen or heard. They had found the entrance to the lair of Asmodeus Poisonteeth.

* * *

**The showdown is coming soon! Don't worry, Eragon isn't here to steal Matthias' thunder. But his presence will be essential. Also, we find out something surprising about Asmodeus...**


End file.
